Disclaimer: I don't own it, mores the pity. Don't sue.
A/N: It's my first fanfic for the Worst Witch and my first attempt at capturing the fascinating character of Miss Hardbroom, so if I did anything wrong, if there's something I could do better, please let me know, R&R as always. I don't know how long this fic will go on for, but I'm hoping this will not be the only chapter. I have so much I would like to say about this world and Constance Hardbroom as a character has always captivated my imagination, so I hope I do her justice! I also have a favour to ask, but that is for the end of the fic! Thanks everyone! I know you'll do me proud!
Summary: Failure. It was not a concept that often featured in Constance Hardbroom's ordered world. Character centred. Flashbacks & Background in Chapter 2 onward if updated.
Failure
Failure. It was not a concept that often featured in Constance Hardbroom's ordered world. She never failed, or so she had believed. It was only now she realised how vain that view had been. She should have seen a mistake like this coming. Now, the day after Hallowe'en was drawing to a close, she at last by herself and alone with her mind. Little, nagging thoughts that had been lurking in the back of her mind finally came forward and set her on a dark road of self-doubt. It was not an occupation she often indulged in, but a necessary one if one wanted to improve their character or ability. She felt as though she had failed on three counts in the last two days.
The first was during the broomstick display the evening before. She should have realised Ethel would not soon forget the humiliation Mildred had caused her with the 'Pig' incident. She should have known Ethel would do anything she could to repay the favour. Constance pressed her lips tightly together as she remembered the mix of words and shrieks she had directed in Ethel's direction when she had found out about the underhanded trick, and at the cost of the school's reputation as well! The second was when she had failed to realise there were intruders in the castle that had become her home, and had not protected her students as she has sworn to do. She had allowed 'wicked witches' as Mildred called them, into Cackles and it had fallen to one of her own students, Mildred Hubble of all people to defend the ancient fortress, while Constance had been in bed, dreaming. It was most unacceptable, and she had already prepared various strategies to make sure that never happened again.
The third was not as important to anyone else but it was extremely disturbing to the woman standing in Cackle's staffroom, looking out of the window at the mountains. She had failed to suppress her own emotions. She had given in, to not just a smile, but a laugh! Her own students had seen her, laughing! Even Mildred, who normally tried not to put a bootlace out of line, had actually said she wasn't so bad. Not that she wanted the girls to dislike her. She wanted warmth from them as much as any teacher did, even more probably, but she was not going to compromise her way of doing things to get that. Her black outfits, her strict hair, her tight posture, those alone made a forbidding prospect for any first year. But she wanted them, perhaps in vain, to look beyond what they saw.
Surely it wasn't too much to ask for someone to look a little harder, into her rather than at her. As much as she knew her duty, and knew her way was best for her and her students, she did sometimes find herself, at moments like these, when everything was still, longing for someone to see a little more or look a little harder. It was times like this she felt a hole inside her. A selfish and conceited feeling, one that was purely for herself and didn't consider the purpose she had dedicated her life to. But still… Many people wouldn't believe it, but the dreaded Constance Hardbroom was most definitely human enough to feel lonely.
Her hand, which had been tucked into the crook of her elbow where her other arm folded, slid up her forearm and up to her shoulder, the other hand copying it, cradling herself inside the meagre warmth she exuded through her dress. Her expression, which up until now had been as rigid as a rock, slacked a little. Her eyes softened and the full lips swelled from not being pressed together anymore. A little rose of colour was allowed into her cheeks and the eyelids no longer snapped open, but drifted. Anyone who saw her then would have told her she looked radiant, but no one was there.
The line of the mountains, blurred from the fog, was level with her eyes and they swept across it as the sun dipped down behind them, the clouds above shot with pink and gold. In a normal instance, she would not have approved of such a display of weakness which just standing and watching the sun go down so often was to her. Was she really loosing her edge? She questioned herself, concern rising her as she wandered through the past few years of her life and realised she was softening, taking things for granted. What had happened to the war-ready witch, denied her place to fight? When had the stern yet energetic young woman disappeared? In the ravages of time, one could only assume. She was now firmly established here, with people who she dared to think perhaps cared for her, more than those she had left behind from her youth.
Amelia Cackle, aside from being a damn nuisance and much too soft with the girls, was a kind soul really and though she could be a little irritable when challenged over something too many times, she did care. Constance knew in her heart she had been the first to break through Miss Hardbroom's wall with a stubbornness Constance could not help but respect. Amelia had done what so many had not and had at least tried to understand her. Davina Bat, on the other hand, had not. HB knew her madness was part of her own defence, some block for an age-old wound. She accepted that and let Davina be. It would be hypocritical of HB to attempt to change her.
Then there was Imogen Drill. An enigma in Constance's normal, if that was the right word to use, world. Though she was not a witch, it didn't mean Miss Hardbroom valued her any less when it came to her being a member of staff, in fact probably more. She knew courage when she saw it, and Imogen had it in plentiful supply. But did she have to be so unconventional? They could perhaps get along if she would just accept that Constance's way of doing things usually was the best thing to do when it came to the students. Constance often wondered whether Imogen understood her at all, and other times she knew that the PE teacher was the closest of all of them to discovering just what Miss Hardbroom was hiding behind that tight façade. It was frightening, that the person she crossed swords with the most was, sometimes, the one person who knew her best.
When it came to the students, however, she did not have that fear. They none of them had ever looked further. They might make a wild stab in the dark every now and again, Mildred seemed particularly good at those, even Miss Hardbroom had to admit she had a talent for people, but almost always, all they hit was a wall. Her wall. Constance sighed and closed her eyes, weariness closing in around her and she turned from the window to sit in a chair, her back relaxing a little and her neck bent backwards so her head, or rather hair, was resting heavily on the back of her chair, taking away some of the strain she usually put on her taught neck muscles and rigid back.
She stayed in that position for some minutes, her face uplifted, a slight curling of her lips to give any onlooker hope, eyes drooping closed and her arms resting on her stomach while her back curved into the chair. Her mind had wandered, out of the castle, to a far away place where a very different Constance Hardbroom had once lived and laughed and loved. She let it, thinking she was safe. So distracted was she that Miss Cackle's approaching footsteps remained unnoticed. Even when Amelia stealthily opened the door and swung it quietly open, Constance, it seemed, still hadn't noticed. Amelia didn't know whether to trust this instinct or not, but she had very little choice.
Met with the sight of her Deputy in such a vulnerable position, the Headmistress smiled and crept back out again, all thoughts of the biscuits she had come for dissipating. Once back out in the corridor and the door safely closed, she smiled again to herself, wondering if it was possible to give her Deputy a few more minutes to herself. Sadly, thoughts of Miss Hardbroom's reaction, should anyone else find her in that way persuaded Miss Cackle that she would have to be the one to interrupt the moment. She sighed silently then opened the door very noisily and bustled in, muttering to herself. As she had expected, Constance had leapt out of her seat, her guard coming back up to full height and her expression sharpening, her posture once again returning to the realm of severe. Miss Cackle pretended not to notice and headed straight for the biscuit tin in her usual habit.
"Good evening Headmistress." Constance greeted her in her usual, precise, half-cold tone. Amelia nodded, a small grin already in place on her expression and, picking out a chocolate-covered one before turning, she returned the greeting with a proffer of the tin,
"Good evening Constance. Biscuit?" Her tone was light and her smile gave no clue of what she had just seen. The glare she received from her Deputy was normal and she twitched her head in a movement that indicated a shrug. Constance shook off the look Amelia gave her and went back to her original post in the window, leaving the Headmistress to start conversation. After considering several options for topics of discussion, the latest book Constance had leant her and the like, she settled on one she had tried before but had never got a straight answer on, which was a strange thing when dealing with Miss Hardbroom.
"I think, overall, this Hallowe'en was partly a success. We did, after all, find a spark of capability in Mildred." Miss Cackle looked satisfied as she finished and bit into her chocolate biscuit while Miss Hardbroom held her mouth shut and maintained her disapproving glare. "Don't look at me like that Connie, I think I deserve some chocolate after all this and if you would just grant yourself a little pleasure, you deserve one too." Miss Cackle replied, the endearing name one she only ever used when they were alone and smiling benignly, wiping a few crumbs from around her mouth. HB pursed her lips, and regarded the Headmistress closely before answering in a disdainful tone that Mildred would most definitely have recognised from her first broomstick lesson after mentioning her mother's car,
"I have told you my views on that nickname, in fact, all shortenings of our rightful names, so please Headmistress," the use of the formal address was quite pointedly obvious, "I will ask you again and hopefully for the last time, not to use it. You also know perfectly well what I think of indulgence." Her face plainly betrayed her irritation at having to explain herself again and she always got a slight wrinkling of her nose when she was forced to discuss the topic of chocolate. Amelia sighed, recognising the usual reaction, and sat down in her chair, trying to seem as though she was focussed on her biscuit, which was quite delicious, when in fact, she was watching the other woman with a careful expression.
"I'm sorry. By the way, I meant to ask you before, why did you leave your hair down for the Hallowe'en festivities and why don't you do it more often? I have to say, Constance, it did look lovely, and really softened-" She had intended to go on but Miss Hardbroom thought otherwise. Her cheeks were no longer their usual pale cream, Miss Cackle was a little delighted to see they were rosy with what Constance put down to embarrassment, regardless of the unusually pleasurable twisting feeling in her stomach. Was it possible her Deputy Head did enjoy a compliment occasionally? It seemed rather unlikely, in fact, Amelia was surprised she had been allowed to continue for as long as she had.
"Headmistress, may I point out you have asked me about this before and I have no answer to give you, just as before." Miss Hardbroom snapped, and was even more annoyed when Miss Cackle merely looked vaguely disgruntled before giving her a knowing look while taking another bite of her biscuit. Constance, however, was not going to take the bait and removed her gaze from the annoying woman, swinging her eyes round to the window once more. Amelia looked briefly disappointed before she also stood and came to stand beside her Deputy, who stiffened even more than usual when she felt the warm presence at her side. It was a great change from the shadows that usually kept her company down in her dark potions laboratory in the dungeons, where few were allowed and even fewer ventured.
"Constance, I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy, I know you are a very private woman, I'm just curious. Will you not indulge an old friend?" Her voice was soft and gentle, not one Miss Hardbroom often heard, it was usually reserved for especially sensitive students, but in a way, she was grateful. It gave her a choice. Not an easy choice, but a choice none the less. She could either reveal a part of herself she had not shown anyone since arriving here, at the Academy, or she could walk away and continue to hide away in the shadows. At the moment, she thought she preferred the unquestioning, if lonely company of the shadows.
"Headmistress, I-" Her tone was lowered though her eyes were not and Miss Cackle knew what she was going to say. She was going to refuse to open up, once again, but this time Amelia was ready. She had a question for her Deputy that she hoped would startle her into revealing something about herself. In all the years Miss Cackle had known Constance, the only thing she had found out about her was she had not had a happy childhood, and even that she had had to work out. It wasn't right for someone to be so well recognised but not well known. It wasn't healthy! Who knew what toll it could take on the younger woman's health in the long run? That was a small part of Miss Cackle who questioned that if something hadn't happened yet, then wasn't it very unlikely it would, but she ignored it. That was the part that found Miss Hardbroom intimidating.
"Constance, have you ever been in love?" Amelia burst out suddenly, focussing all her attention on her friend. The interruption did startle the straight-backed woman to whom it was addressed but the question itself startled the Potions mistress even more than Miss Cackle cutting across her. What an odd question! Oh, that was probably the point. Amelia would hope to surprise her into answering on impulse. Well, she'd have to try it later in the evening if she wanted to even think about succeeding. Constance was surprised Amelia even tried that way; she wasn't normally sneaky. This should have indicated to Constance how determined Amelia was this time, but she didn't think too deeply on it.
"I don't think that really any of your-"
"Business? Oh, I think it is. It's time, Miss Hardbroom, that we had a talk. I have known you for many years, would even go as far as to call you a friend, and I still know nothing about you. I think it's high time we changed that. I've been pretty lenient up to now, I thought if I gave you some time, perhaps you'd tell me without having to be asked, but obviously I was wrong." Her tone was firm, one HB had no problem recognising, and Constance knew she was not going to take no for an answer this time. So, instead, she would not give an answer. Without a flicker of her expression, the younger woman turned and strode to the door, stretching out her hand for the handle, only to find it locked. Closing her eyes briefly, she pointed a fingertip through the keyhole.
"I'm sorry Amelia." Miss Hardbroom murmured, her fingers wrapping securely around the handle and beginning to twist. Just as she was about to open the door, she heard a click and once again, the door was locked. Feeling her irritation once again rising, she performed her spell again and swiftly twisted only to hear the lock shoot back into place. She forced air out of her nose sharply and wrenched at the handle for good measure, hoping Amelia would get the point but it seemed the Headmistress was in a stubborn mood. Had she really thought she admired that trait a few minutes ago? It may make her a good Headmistress, but it made her a truly irritating friend.
"For Merlin's sake Headmistress, let me out of this room!" Constance started to cry out but immediately turned it into a voice of forced calm, trying one last time to dislodge the door keeping her in before swinging around and throwing a powerful glare at the older woman that would have frozen a fire. Miss Cackle, however, looked unperturbed and calmly waited for her friend to settle back down. This was how she always reacted, and Amelia had been prepared: First, she'd be violently opposed, as she always was to change, and then she'd slowly calm down and get used to the idea.
Constance knew her game though, and she also knew there was no chance she was getting out of this room unless Amelia (or another staff member entering) let her out. She flatly refused to use magic on the Headmistress, even if she wasn't acting professionally, so she settled for cursing in her mind. Damn the woman. Well, Miss Hardbroom wasn't about to scream and shout for the Miss Cackle's amusement. HB took a deep breath and folded her hands together before taking a seat again, knowing if she apparated out Amelia would only pester her later and likely trap her into the same situation until she got what she wanted.
This time, as she slid onto the hard-back chair, Constance was anything but relaxed. She sat completely, rigidly straight, almost on the edge of her seat with her eyes fixed on some point on the wall across from her, not a fleck of emotion allowed to wander those dark pools. Such a contrast from the sight Amelia had a glimpse of earlier. Miss Cackle knew she was doing the right thing but it did not make it any easier. With a half-smile, she thought this is what it must feel like to be Constance. Perhaps it was this thought or her own already growing sympathy that led the Headmistress to soften and venture over to her Deputy. HB did not move and remained glaring at the wall with such a ferocity Amelia thought it could and would go up in flames at any moment. The Headmistress bit the inside of her cheek before laying a very light hand on Constance's arm. The taught muscle in the younger woman's face twitched a little, as if in a half-flinch but Miss Cackle did not draw away.
"Constance, please, I just want to know a little more about you. You don't have to tell me everything, just something. I don't know if you have any family, I don't even know really where you came from!" It was at this point Amelia truly realised how little she knew – nothing. Absolutely nothing. How could she have been around this woman so long and known nothing? Miss Cackle looked closely at her colleague, watching for any sign of a reaction from the mysterious woman. Her face betrayed nothing, still as if it was carved from marble, but her hands were telling a different story. HB probably didn't even realise what she was doing, otherwise she would have stopped it, but her long fingers kept clenching and unclenching, balling around each other before falling open, then interlocking her fingers again before balling them up again. In the end, they fell apart for the last time and stayed like that. Amelia took this as a hopeful sign and looked up at Miss Hardbroom's face.
She had looked up just in time to see Constance's eyes drop from the wall and her shoulder's ever so slightly slump. She had given in, there was no doubt, and Miss Cackle smiled in triumph, for to somehow negotiate Miss Hardbroom into doing something she had no mind to do was a huge achievement. Constance's dark eyes swept over to Amelia's face and already there were some flickers that Miss Cackle could distinguish as emotions lighting those depths. A light sigh reached the older woman's ears and she watched Constance with anticipation and no small amount of delight, which she did try to conceal, badly. It would not do to put Connie off now. But how could the Headmistress help but be slightly on edge, as well as being glad? She did so desperately want to help this woman, and finally she had been given an opportunity to do so!
"Very well Amelia." Miss Hardbroom sighed, lifting a hand to rest on the elder one, some warmth gained from the contact but mostly reassurance was given to both that they were 'alright' and Miss Cackle knew this was not a conversation Constance was going to hold against her or even mention later. "You may want a chair, this could take some time. I am unused to giving narratives, especially about myself, and you will no doubt have questions." Amelia noted with a trace of disappointment not noticeable to anyone else, as she quickly pulled a chair over, that her colleagues voice had returned to the coldness and precision that she used for describing potion ingredients. She had hoped for some softness to make this easier on both sides, but then perhaps that would not make it easier for Constance. Business as usual had always seemed easiest for the straight-laced woman. A wonderful quality in a Deputy but a very difficult and potentially awkward quality in a friend, but then that depended, Miss Cackle supposed, on the friend's definition of business. Re-concentrating her thoughts on her companion, she sat easily in the chair (her pose deceptively relaxed, she actually felt like a coiled spring) and her eyes once more swept up to Constance's, wondering just how long this past had been bottled up for.
A/N2: Ok, now I need a favour. We as an audience know very little of Constance Hardbroom's life, so I know much of what will come in the next chapter will be up to me, but what we do know, I would like to include. Please, whatever information you have on this amazing individual, could you pass it on to me, either through your review, or in a PM. I will be ever so grateful! Please, I can use every little thing you remember. Even if you don't know anything, I'd still love a review.